


Got a Minute?

by Swindlefingers



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Birth Control, Discussion of Abortion, Established Relationship, F/M, No Mansplaining, POV Third Person Limited, Pregnancy, Present Tense, Unplanned Pregnancy, difficult conversations, grown-up conversations, handled with tact, healthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8733820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swindlefingers/pseuds/Swindlefingers
Summary: Accidents happen, and when Cait finds out that her and Nate’s idea of birth control failed, Cait faces the reality of having a difficult conversation with Nate. It’s not a conversation she looks forward to having.Warnings: Discussions of pregnancy, family planning, birth control, and terminating a pregnancy are included in this fic.





	

Cait’s stomach roils as she clomps up the wooden stairs, brushing aside the threadbare sheet that serves as a door into Nate’s “office”. He reclines on the ratty couch they found, a note pad on his lap, gnawing on a pencil and focused on a newspaper in his hand.

“Got a minute?” she asks.

Nate looks up from his work, laying the newspaper down on his lap. He plucks the stubby pencil from between his teeth, “What’s up?”

Cait paces back and forth on the bare wooden floor. She clenches and unclenches her fists, trying to work some feeling back into her numb fingers. The things she has to say have already gone and gotten twisted up in her brain. But they talked about this; she can’t shut him out to handle things on her own all the time. Besides, he deserves to know this.

“Jesus Christ," Nate chuckles, "just sit down. You’re making me nervous.” He swings his legs around to sit on the couch and pats the cushion next to him.

She shakes her head, “I think better on my feet.”

“Alright. What’s going on? What’re you upset about?”

“How d’you know I’m upset?” Cait stops to glare at him.

“Because you’ve been quiet the last few days and now you’re pacing. That’s what you do when you’re upset.”

“That’s-” she swallows the rest of her thought. It’s exactly what she does and she hates that he knows it about her. Focus. This isn't the conversation she steeled herself to have. She takes a deep breath. “I’ve got something to talk to ya about. I’ve just gotta say it otherwise it ain’t comin’ out.”

“I’m listening.”

“Alright, it’s like this: I’ve been feelin’… off.”

“Off?”

“ _Off_ , yeah. More than just getting used not havin’ the drink or the drugs. Headache, my tits hurt, food isn’t sitting right, and I’m… I’m late. I’ve been to see that doctor in Diamond City. He poked and prodded and then I pissed on a stick and he ran a test.”

The easy smile he always wears slides off his face, taking his color with it.

“Turns out yeah,” she nods over and over, pacing, and clenching her fists, “I’m pregnant.”

“Holy shit,” Nate mutters.

“Holy shite is fucking _right._ ”

“But how? I pull out every-”

“Aye, I know! ‘Accidents happen’, is what the doc said,” she draws quotes in the air with her fingers, before a dark realization stings at her. She glares at him, “I ain’t been fucking around if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not! I’m thinking _a lot_ of things,” he admits, a small smile grows in the corner of his mouth, “but that’s _not_ one of them.”

Nate suddenly stands, the air vibrating around him. He reaches out for her arm and she lets him take her hand. He tries to pry her fist open, one of the irritatingly soft things he does. When she feels tight as a drum, he pries open her fist and his thumbs across her palm. She's never been sure if he does it for himself, or for her, but it's soothing.

Cait holds her fist tight and closed. His shoulders slowly slump.

“So… what happens now?” he quietly asks. He keeps his eyes trained on her fist, running his thumb along her knuckles instead.

Cait sighs. The question she’s been asking herself over and over and over again for the past three days.

What if Nate wants this more than anything. What if telling him that she can’t do this, crushes him. The months they’ve spent learning to trust each other, how to talk to each other, and how to support each other. How rejected will he feel when she’s said her piece. How quickly will he walk out the door? And disappear?

“I don’t– I can’t– I want–” She pulls her fist from his hand and rubs her face with a loud groan.

Nate wanders back to the couch. Again, he pats at the cushion next to him, “Just sit down already.”

She slumps into it. Moments pass in silence as she tries to re-arrange all the thoughts knocking around in her skull. The words she has to say sit like a stone on her chest, crushing the air out of her. Nate rubs circles across her back, slow and soft. Cait studies the floorboards.

“I told ya about me parents," she sighs. "Fuck, Nate. What if I’m just like them?”

“You won’t b–”

“I’m not done talkin',” she interrupts. “What about all that poison I had in me veins for all those years. What if the baby's born with... What if all the drinkin’ and the psycho messes them up before they’ve even had a chance?

“What if I fall back to what I was doin? Some days I’m fine and I don’t even miss the stuff, but others? What about the days where the kid is a shite and I just want to take a drink, or a hit, to take the edge off so I don’t throttle them?

“And we _never_ stop moving. We barely make enough caps to make sure the two of us are ok. How are we gonna buy all the nappies and baby clothes and extra food. Who’s gonna watch the baby while we work? Are you gonna strap a baby to ya while you’re off scavengin’? I don't think so.”

Cait heaves a sigh, folding her hands together and pressing them to her chest, hoping to loosen the stone that isn't there, “I love you, I do. I hope ya know that, with all me heart, but I don’t think I can do this.”

“No,” she shakes her head and quickly corrects herself, “I won’t be doin’ it.”

Cait sucks in a breath and tenses for a storm as the silence builds in the bare wooden room. A storm she’s never seen from him. He’s never more than raised his voice or flapped his hands around when he gets wound up, but it’s a storm she's been bracing for, in one way or another, from one person or another, ever since she can remember.

“You can talk now,” she jokes, hoping to cut through the tension.

“What do you want me to say?” he mutters.

“Anything. What are you thinking?”

“Are you honestly asking?”

“Aye.”

Nate shifts in his seat and clears his throat. He rests his hand on her knee and squeezes.

“First off, I love you, too. Secondly, I think you’ve spent a lot of time thinking this through and you should… I dunno… honor that, be proud of it, whatever. Thirdly, I think it doesn’t really matter what I think. I think I want you to be happy, I want you to feel safe. If this doesn’t make you feel either of those things then it’s not worth it to me.”

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I… if I went back to the doctor’s and had it taken care of?”

“Why would I be upset?”

“I don't know. I just need to know how ready you are to walk because of it.”

“Oh, goddamn it Cait,” Nate sighs, “I’m not going to ‘walk away’. Not every disagreement ends with someone ‘walking away’ and I don’t even disagree with you. If you don’t want this pregnancy, then that’s that. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nate leans in closer, resting his shoulder against hers.

“Would _you_ be upset if you ended the pregnancy?” he counters.

“I think… I’m upset that I don’t feel upset. I wish this wasn’t happening _now_ of all times. I don’t like the fuss. The thought of _not_ being…" The word catches at the back of her throat, "...pregnant? Feels like a relief.”

“Then I think that’s your answer right there.”

“Yeah,” Cait nods. She scrubs her hands through her hair. “It’s just not for me, not right now.”

She takes a deep breath and falls back onto the couch with a huff. With the words finally said, the stone on her chest rolls away, thundering across the wooden floor and banging down the steps. She turns to look at Nate. He looks back with the same soft, brown eyes she’s lost herself in countless times. She can't find any hidden anger or resentment in them.

“You want me to come with you to the doctor’s?” he picks up her fist and cradles her hand in his lap.

Cait thinks of brushing him off. She can do this by herself, no reason to drag him along. Doc said it’d be a shot and a few days of discomfort. Nothing worse than a prize fight.

She watches a little knit of worry tangle itself up between his brows. She's still not used to it, someone worrying about her. Sometimes it sets her teeth on edge, but sometimes not. She _could_ deal with everything by herself, she knows she can, and has for so long. Or she can choose to make it easier on herself, like they talked about, by sharing the burden with someone she trusts. With Nate.

“Yeah, would you mind?” she quietly asks, opening her fist.

The knit unravels, Nate's smile comes back easy and warm. He briefly presses her palm to his lips, “'Course not.”

Cait reaches out with a smirk, wrapping her arm around his neck, pulling him close enough to kiss his temple, “Thanks, Treasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Responsible adult notes: [Pulling out is not a great form birth control](https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/birth-control/withdrawal-pull-out-method). You have much safer and less accident-prone options available to you if you’re trying to prevent pregnancy. Pulling out does not stop the transmission of STDs, either. Learn more about birth control at PlannedParenthood.com.
> 
> I figure condoms aren’t being made in the Wasteland, and they’d be expensive because of that, so ye olde “pull out and pray” method is probably what most couples without a lot of money, that have to worry about pregnancy, use.


End file.
